Bullet Wounds and Nicotine Dreams
by Vindicated Irony
Summary: Matt figured he would die, but not die and wake up at Wammy's as his fourteen-year-old self with a very paranoid and very female Mello, a misanthropic, art hating Linda, and Near – well, Matt never really understood Near in the first place.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:**

Matt figured he would die, but not die and wake up at Wammy's as his fourteen-year-old self with a very paranoid and very female Mello, a misanthropic, art hating Linda, and Near – well, Matt never really understood Near in the first place.

**THIS IS GOING TO BE CRACKY. And AU, of course. Crack and AU. Because I don't have to even think when I write this, so when I have writers block this will be what I'm doing.**

**And it will be beautiful (don't count on it).**

**/D/\N\**

If he was being honest, the whole time Mello had been explaining the 'Kidnap Takada' plan Matt knew he was going to die. Part of him figured it would very well end up with the _both_ of them dead. Though he never would have told Mello that lest he be locked in a closet sans his games like a puppy that had peed in the floor for the umpteenth time.

Sure, he could have voiced his concerns, but even if he was the blonde's best friend it didn't mean Mello would appreciate being told "Hey, you're going to die" and that his plan was slightly insane. (But really they were each other's only friend; perhaps that's why Matt had so easily gone along with the plan – not like there was anyone else waiting for him somewhere.)

So when he'd gotten out of his car (that beautiful, beautiful, fast, red car) with his hands in the air and waving the proverbial white flag and acting lax and cheerful, Matt had the sinking feeling he was going to end up dead.

So it really wasn't the least bit surprising that he'd been shot, riddled with bullets like he'd riddled people with bullets in GTA games.

It was surprising however that he was now laying in what he assumed was a bed – that's what it felt like, though Matt wasn't a bed connoisseur – staring up at a white, popcorn ceiling.

Perhaps he hadn't died and he was lying in a hospital bed, but Matt was fairly certain that there'd be a hell of a lot more beeping and that there would be a constrictive feeling where they'd practically mummify him wrapping up the bullet wounds. Then again, perhaps the morphine was numbing him so much that didn't even feel _numb_.

Then again he didn't quite know how morphine affected the body – biology wasn't something he was ever particularly interested in.

With a deep breath and a fleeting thought of 'I might still die, because, you know, I'm kind of a criminal' Matt pushed himself up, his BROWN eyes peering around the room before freezing, choking slightly on his spit and –

"_**Holy fuck!**_"

With a shriek (a _manly_ shriek) Matt twisted out of the bed and fell to the floor, his limbs flapping about up until the point that he smacked harshly into the floor. For a moment he considered how much his butt was smarting before his eyes flashed back to what had inspired his freak out.

Peering down at him was a tiny, hunched form that was all too familiar, but still had Matt flabbergasted. Near, the Near he remembered, he could have sworn was at least a teensie bit bigger than the one staring down at him now.

Still creepy as hell though, and still deserving his own Creepy Pasta page.

But the most pressing matter right now was –

"Near? Why are you here? Where is here?"

Big, black, dead doe eyes blinked back at him and Near put a sleeve covered hand up to his mouth, "I shall blame your sleep addled brain and subsequent fall to the floor the reason for such silly questions. We are of course in our room at Wammy's, and I am here because half of this room is mine."

"Wait, what?" Matt jerked up, smacking his head into the mattress with such force it launched him into his knees, "Ugh, hell. I don't…This isn't…Why you?"

"What? Would you rather room with _Mello_?"

Matt squinted at Near, "Uh, yeah."

"Hmm, I didn't take you as a pervert, Matt. Wanting to room with a girl, how bold."

With that a pounding started in Matt's head – and not the good kind that comes with adrenaline and hallucinogenics (he experimented once. _Once_.). Because Mello couldn't possibly be a girl, and he couldn't possibly be back at Wammy's.

This was just a dream. A dream caused by the copious amounts of painkilling and possibly infection fighting drugs in his system – because he was in the hospital. Dreaming.

Right?

**/D/\N\**


	2. Chapter 2

**So Matt is going to be the red-head fans love to picture hm as in this – even if his real hair is supposed to be brown. Red fits batter, I think you'll see that at the end of this (plz don't hurt me).**

**Also: Strong language because Linda is a potty mouth (for shame Linda, for shame). **

**[][][][][][][][][][]**

**/D\/N\**

**CH. 2**

There were no words that could truly describe how Matt felt at the moment – okay, that was a lie; there were a few. Harassed, confused, and semi-disgusted were a few words that came to mind when he looked at the very womanly Mello in front of him.

Seriously, the dude – er, dudette – had bigger boobs and more curvaceous curves than _Misa Amane_.

Matt felt harassed because, well, Mello was clinging to his arm and jerking him around, acting like some international spy that was too hopped up on pixie stix and Lindt chocolate to actually be _stealthy_. He was confused because Mello was a girl – an attractive, paranoid, and possibly psychotic girl. And he was semi-disgusted because – dear god – he found Mello semi-attractive.

It was wrong on many, many levels. The Mello that Matt knew and remembered was distinctly male, even if he dressed in tight leather pants and showed off more stomach than necessary.

But that was beside the point.

"Get up against the wall, doofus," came the gruff, feminine sound of Mello's voice, "We need to be stealthy – standing in the middle of the hall is a fucking give away."

Matt slumped half-heartedly against the wall, "Sneaking around attracts more attention, you know."

"I don't want _him_ to see us!"

"You mean Near? He's known we were here since we _got_ here."

"And whose fault is that?!"

"Mine, for standing in the middle of the hall?"

"Damn straight!"

Matt slapped a hand to his face, wondering if he really wanted to put up with this, because this Mello was deranged and Matt was somewhat afraid it might be contagious. He vaguely wondered how she (god, it was still weird for him to think of _Mello_ as a _she_) was still ranked second, as it seemed like she'd be too paranoid to actually take tests or finish assignments.

Then again this was a _dream_ and Mello was synonymous with 'second.'

Not that Matt would ever admit that aloud in fear of getting one of the high heels this Mello wore in the crotch, because this Mello still had a driving need to be first.

"Are you done acting like fools out there?" Came the droning voice of Near – a voice that he thought was exactly like those disembodied voices in horror films.

Mello cursed, loudly, "Mind your own business, Near!"

Owlish, dead doe eyes blinked at the blonde, a puzzle piece in his hand, "Well, you were watching me, so it is my business, is it not."

Matt sighed as Mello made a fowl comment – really, Mello may have been a _bit_ angry most of the time, but he wasn't _this_ bad at Wammy's.

"With such foul language I makes me really wonder whether or not you're really a girl."

There was a moment of silence before Mello stalked into the room towards Near –

"You want me to _prove it_?"

Aaaand Matt decided that was his cue to leave, because he was terrified she would follow through with 'proving it' and he _really_ didn't need to see that. There was also the fact that he was on the verge of snapping, because dear god he really, really wanted a cigarette.

Even in his coma-medicine-induced dream he was addicted to fucking nicotine. And it was a dream so he couldn't smoke, and even if he could his dream-self was fourteen so he couldn't get his hands on dream cigarettes even if he wanted to.

And he really, _really_ wanted to.

"What's got your manties in a bunch?"

**/D\/N\**

Linda was almost an even bigger dream-anomaly than Mello – but Mello's gender change won out on the anomay scale – as she was just so… _un-Linda_. For one, there was the fact that she said _manties_, and then there was the dark make-up and dark clothes.

Matt almost couldn't comprehend it. Linda was supposed to be bubbly and warm, in language and clothes and personality.

"Mello and Near are such fuckin' freaks. And they're fuckin' _loud_."

And this Linda was, decidedly, _not_ those aforementioned things.

…And Matt felt oddly refreshed by that. Something about a crass, dark Linda was more relatable and welcome that some perky, positive girl. It might have also helped that Linda was also quite the attractive girl – that had _always_ been a girl – what with her shimmery light brown hair and peachy skin.

"What the hell happened _this_ time? Or did Mellarina just go crazy on 'im again?"

Matt just grimaced, "Just Near commenting on Mell's actions."

"There's gotta be more to it, 'cause some kids _disturbed me_ by running by screaming."

A sinking feeling formed in Matt's stomach as he chewed that over in his head. His voice was weak as he replied –

"…She did threaten to 'prove that she was a girl.'"

Linda made an odd sound in the back of her throat, "_That_ is why I hate _people_. For their sheer stupidity, never mind if they rank above me. They're still _fuckin' stupid_."

And at that moment, through the large hallway windows, Mello came strutting through. Shirt in her hand and nothing but her bra covering her chest. Matt was sure she was probably pants less too –

And _ohdeargod_ why did he just imagine that!

"You see a half-naked girl and you turn _green_?" Linda sneered from the side, "What kinda man are you? Whatever, just get the hell away already.

"In case you forgot, this is my area. So fuck off, fire crotch."

**/D\/N\**


End file.
